


Celestial Being? Really?

by NostalgiaKick



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-11-13 18:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NostalgiaKick/pseuds/NostalgiaKick
Summary: Chloe must come to terms with an unexpected revelation from Lucifer while they work to solve a murder that hits closer to home than they're used to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first solo Lucifer work! 
> 
> All usual disclaimers apply. 
> 
> Huge thanks go to my good friend Endelda, for help, encouragement and beta-reading.

Chloe Decker drove out of the precinct parking lot and turned the car towards the beach and home, sighing in relief. It had been a long and strange day, between the discovery of a dirty cop in their station and Lucifer’s bizarre search for his missing angel wings, of all things.

She still didn’t understand that one. Like so much about Lucifer, his search for the wings posed more questions than answers. Where had the wings even come from in the first place? When he’d first told her about them, she’d pictured something much less dramatic than the reality— something smaller, more like a Halloween costume. What he claimed to be fake had been both more beautiful and yet more disturbing than she’d imagined. And what was even stranger was his reaction to them. For a man who took so little seriously, his desperation to find them and how upset he was at the discovery of the fakes was unnerving.

She stopped at a red light, staring blankly at the traffic going past before a distinctive black convertible caught her eye.

Lucifer’s car.

What was he doing out here? This intersection was miles away from Lux. Curiosity piqued, she forgot about going home and turned to follow the Corvette.

***  
Lucifer Morningstar spotted a familiar car as it turned out of a side street to join the flow of traffic behind him and grinned. Trust the Detective to follow him after the way they’d left things at the auction. She was good, he had to admit. If he hadn’t known her car so well, he may not have noticed her.

The question was now, what did he do about her? 

He could take the next turn back towards Hollywood, return to the penthouse, and have his little chat with his angelic elder brother there. Or he could continue on towards the beach, do what he’d planned to do, and potentially let the Detective discover his secret at the same time.

His grin widened. 

With all of Amenadiel’s strictures on not exposing humanity to divinity, how could he do anything but let the Detective take a peek at the wings? One more flipped bird at his Father and his holier-than-thou brother. And as for the Detective knowing the truth, well, he’d been trying to convince her of his identity since they met. This may actually be the best way to do it.

Accordingly, he slowed down, making certain she could definitely follow him. Reaching his destination, Lucifer parked in the most conspicuous place possible, giving her enough time to find somewhere out of the way to park before he got out and removed the wings from the boot of the Corvette.

***  
Moving as quietly as she could, Chloe took up position in the shadows cast by one of the buildings just above the sand, taking care to stay out of sight.  
As she watched, Lucifer got out of the low-slung convertible, looking unusually dishevelled in the tuxedo pants and dress shirt he’d been wearing at the auction, his bow tie hanging untied from his collar. He crossed to the back of the car, lifting the lid of the trunk and pulling out—

“What?” she breathed, moving as close to the edge of the shadows as she dared.

Wings. Lucifer was holding wings.

This time, she knew beyond a shred of a doubt that these were the real thing. They were exactly as he’d described them earlier in the day. Exquisite. Divine. And yet they were so much more, more than mere words could possibly describe. Shakily she reached out and grabbed the post supporting the roof of the patio she stood on as the sheer weight of the wings’ significance struck her.

Proof of divinity. Of _Lucifer’s_ divinity.

It was all true. It all existed. God. Heaven. Hell. Angels. Demons. The Devil.

Lucifer— _Lucifer_ — was the Devil.

She suppressed a whimper as he carried the wings past her vantage point and onto the sand out of her sight, the feathers rustling gently in the sea breeze and glowing softly with their own light. 

Curiosity coupled with the intense need to see the wings again warred with fear of interfering with the Devil’s business as she hesitated on the patio. 

Curiosity won.

Chloe snuck forward, carefully staying out of Lucifer’s line of sight as he crossed the beach, spreading the wings out on the dry sand and sitting down in front of them. Spotting a small rise behind him, she crept in its direction, lying down on her belly behind its meagre shelter, keeping as low a profile as she could while keeping Lucifer— and the wings— in sight.

The wings Carmen had been selling had been a faithful reproduction of the real thing, right down to the gory pieces of flesh they were attached to that had disturbed her at the auction. The flesh that she now knew had to be Lucifer’s. When she’d seen the scars on his back and heard his explanation, she hadn’t taken him seriously. It had just been one more crazy thing that Lucifer said. But lying here in the sand, looking at the wings and the man they’d once been part of, she had to admit the truth. He really had severed the wings— but why?  
And what was he doing, bringing them here to this beach? With his back to her, it was hard to see what he was up to, but it looked like he was just… sitting there.

Out of the darkness, another man approached, stepping into the faint glow from the wings.  
“I knew you’d come,” Lucifer greeted his brother, getting to his feet.  
From this distance, Amenadiel’s response was fainter and harder for Chloe to make out. She strained to hear the brothers over the sound of the waves, knowing she was missing most of what Amenadiel was saying. Something about belonging?

“Is that all?” Lucifer’s higher-pitched question floated back to her, followed by another indistinct utterance from Amenadiel.  
“Not exactly.”  
As Chloe watched, Lucifer flicked a lit cigarette over his shoulder. She stifled a gasp as the wings quickly became an inferno. How could he do that? Destroy something so incredibly beautiful? 

“What are you doing?!” Amenadiel shouted, dropping to his hands and knees in front of the flames. Chloe flattened herself to the sand, suddenly worried that she’d be seen with the extra light from the burning wings. What, exactly, did an angel and the Devil do with a human who knew the truth? 

“Well, ruining your plan it seems. It was you, brother. You tipped Carmen off and you orchestrated the theft.”  
“Because you left me no choice,” Amenadiel told him.  
“Well, clearly you were desperate. I mean, you were willing to let a human die and unleash the wings upon the world just to remind me who I was. To fool me into desiring the wings and the Hellish throne they accompany. Well, do you know what? It almost bloody worked.”

Amenadiel turned away from her, towards Lucifer, and yet again she couldn’t hear his reply.

“Well, you were right. Severing the wings was a half measure. I did leave myself an out. A ripcord back to the life that dear old Dad chose for me. But I don't need it now, because in case I haven’t made myself abundantly clear, I’m never going back to Hell.” Lucifer held his arms out, clearly taunting Amenadiel before laying one hand on his brother’s shoulder.  
“But ah, A for effort. I’m sure Dad will give you a big gold star for trying.” He stepped back.

Without warning, Amenadiel rushed Lucifer, tackling him and throwing him bodily to the sand. In the light from the still-burning feathers, Chloe saw him sit astride his brother, driving his fist into Lucifer’s face again and again as she winced at every blow.  
Incredibly she heard Lucifer begin to laugh, the sound distorted by Amenadiel’s punches.  
“Fall as I did!” Lucifer taunted, still chuckling darkly.  
Amenadiel stopped, dropping his clenched fist and standing up, glaring down at his brother lying on his back.  
“I'll do whatever it takes to get you back to Hell,” he vowed before turning and walking away.

_Fall as I did!_

Lucifer’s words brought Chloe to the realisation of the relationship between her partner and the man she’d been introduced to earlier that night. For all their apparent camaraderie at the auction, the two brothers were essentially enemies— Lucifer, the Devil, the symbol of everything evil in the world, and Amenadiel, one of God’s angels. And yet… it was Amenadiel that had set off the chain of events that had led to the deaths of two men. And Lucifer… she’d only known him for a couple of months, it was true, but she found it very hard to believe that he was evil.

“Seen enough, Detective?”

***  
Lucifer lay back on the sand, wiped some of the blood away from his mouth and nose and stared up at the sky for a minute until the dizziness from Amenadiel’s punches had faded. Then he sat up and glanced around, smiling sardonically when he found what he was looking for.

“Seen enough, Detective?”

He heard a faint gasp from the darkness behind him and grinned mirthlessly, waiting. In a few moments, she appeared out of the shadows, stopping a few feet away from him.

“You knew I was there?”

“I saw you follow me from Carmen’s place,” Lucifer responded. “Your car is rather recognisable by now, Detective.”

She crossed her arms, staring down at him with a half-curious, half-terrified expression on her face.  
“You’re really him, aren’t you?”

“The Devil?” He inclined his head, snorting softly. “Just as I’ve been telling you since the beginning.”

Her gaze strayed over his shoulder to the still-burning remnants of the wings. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I no longer need them,” he replied curtly. “They’re a relic. A reminder of a life I have no intention of returning to. Just as I told my dear angelic brother.” He glanced up at her; she was swaying slightly on her feet.  
“You should sit down, Detective. This can all be… a little much for humans to handle.” She hesitated, making a gesture as if to ward him off. Suddenly exasperated, he snapped. “Oh just sit down, Detective! I’ve never hurt an innocent before, I’m hardly going to start with you.”

“No.” She shook her head, swallowing hard. “No, I can’t.” She backed up a few steps, bringing him to his feet in concern. 

“Detective?”

At his movement, she turned on her heel and strode off into the darkness.

“Detective?!” he called after her before sighing. “She really has to stop doing that.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chloe flashed her badge at the uniformed officer guarding the doorway and received a nod of approval before he stood aside and let her enter. Walking through the open plan living area to the short hallway beyond, she found her crime scene and got the attention of the senior officer present.   
“Detective Decker,” she introduced herself. “What have you got so far?”  
He gestured to the body that lay on the bed, crime scene techs working around it.   
“Brittany Hoang. She’s 23. Went to bed sick last night, roommate came in to check on her this morning and found her like this.”  
Chloe nodded and stepped closer, looking for any obvious signs of injury.  
“Anything you can tell me?” she asked the coroner. He looked up. “Time of death is around 4.30-5 o’clock this morning.” His forehead wrinkled. “There’s a faint smell…”  
“Smell? Of what?”  
“I think… I think she may have died of methanol poisoning, but I’ll know more when I get her back to the lab.”  
“Methanol? You mean like rubbing alcohol?”  
“That's one of the more common sources, yes. The stuff you drink is ethanol; methanol will get you drunk, but it’s toxic.”  
“So she drank it?”  
“It’s possible.”  
“Okay.” Chloe turned back to Officer Doyle. “Where’s the roommate now?”

***  
Chloe touched Officer Hernandez on the arm, letting her know she needed to talk to the victim’s roommate and settling into the chair next to the roommate as Hernandez took a step back.  
“I’m Detective Decker,” she said softly, taking in the red-rimmed eyes of the young blonde woman in front of her. “I need to ask you a few questions about your roommate.”  
“Brittany. Thompson,” the younger woman sniffled. “People always tease us about having the same first name.” Her face crumpled. “Teased us.”  
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Chloe told her. “Have you known Brittany long?”  
The other woman nodded. “We grew up together.”  
Hernandez offered the younger woman a box of tissues. Chloe looked up and nodded her thanks.   
“Can you tell me what happened?”  
Brittany wiped her eyes, hiccuping for a moment before regaining a little composure. “We went out clubbing last night but then Brittany started to feel sick, so we came home early. She went straight to bed and when I got up this morning—” The young woman started to cry again. “I didn’t think she was that sick!”  
“It’s okay,” Chloe reassured her. “There’s still some information I need from you, Brittany. Where did you go last night?”  
“Lux. That’s why I was so annoyed with Brittany when she wanted to leave early. Lucifer was buying us drinks—”  
“Lucifer?” Chloe asked. The likelihood that it was anyone except her almost-former partner was slim to none, but she still had to check.  
“Lucifer Morningstar. He owns Lux.”  
Chloe nodded. “I know him. How much did you have to drink?”  
“Not much. Only two or three drinks each.”  
“And what time did you get home?”  
“Just before 2 am.”  
“Okay. And was Brittany feeling sick before you went out?”  
“She was fine when we got there. Then she started getting this really bad headache… I wanted to stay but I couldn’t let her go home by herself. She’s my friend.”  
Chloe nodded. “Okay. I know this is hard to deal with right now, but can you think of anyone that might want to hurt Brittany? An ex-boyfriend, someone she worked with, anyone?”   
Brittany shook her head. “No. No, everyone loved Brittany. She was so sweet, you know?”  
Chloe nodded again, mentally crossing the obvious suspects off the list. She handed the younger woman her card. “Call me if you remember anything else.”

She walked away from the witness, lost in thought. She had no choice; she had to go and talk to Lucifer. And it was going to be an awkward conversation, no matter how she approached it.   
Three weeks had passed since she’d found out the truth about his identity… and she hadn’t spoken to him since. She’d thought about it a lot— for the first few days after that night on the beach she’d done very little but try to make sense of his divinity and how it affected the world she’d thought she knew— but after walking away from him the way she had, she hadn’t known how. What could she say? 

Regardless, there was no avoiding it now. At the very least, he could confirm Brittany Thompson’s story. Chloe also knew his knack for picking up on details no one else saw; it was possible he’d noticed something significant and not even known it.

***  
Taking a deep breath, Chloe pushed the door to Lux open and walked into the familiar dimly-lit surroundings of the club. This early in the afternoon, it was close to peaceful inside the normally packed nightclub. The music was muted, the usual array of scantily-clad dancers was absent, and the only people in sight were staff members beginning the process of setting up for the night’s trade.  
She paused at the top of the stairs for a moment before spotting someone she recognised.

“Maze?”  
The woman Chloe now knew to be a demon turned abruptly, her expression far from welcoming.   
“What do you want?” the demon snapped.  
“Is Lucifer here?”  
Maze gave a contemptuous snort but jerked her head in the direction of the bar before walking off.  
“Thanks,” Chloe said sarcastically to the empty air before shaking her head and taking the steps down to the club proper.

Lucifer was seated at the bar, idly chatting with the bartender, his ever-present glass of whiskey in his hand. She stopped a few feet away from him, unsure of the reception she’d get.

“Lucifer.”  
He paused in the act of lifting the glass to his mouth.  
“Detective?”  
He turned to face her, his black brows drawing together in a frown.  
“To what do I owe the honour of your presence?” he bit out sarcastically.   
“I need to talk to you about a case.”  
“Hang on. Let me get this straight. You walked away from me, haven’t spoken to me in almost a month, and now you want me to help you with a case? Am I missing something here?” he asked in tones of annoyed disbelief.  
“Lucifer—”  
“The answer is no, Detective.” He set his glass down on the bar and turned away.  
“You’re a witness, Lucifer.”  
“What?” He spun back towards her, puzzlement warring with anger on his face.  
“Last night, you were buying drinks for two young girls.”  
“The Brittanies?”  
Chloe nodded. “Brittany Hoang was found dead this morning.”  
The anger on his face was replaced by dismay. “What happened to her?”  
“She was poisoned. From what the coroner said, it looks like it happened here.”  
“And you think I—”  
She cut him off. “Of course not, Lucifer. But you were drinking with the victim around the time she was poisoned. So you might have seen something unusual.”  
“No, I can’t say that I did. Are you certain she was poisoned here?”  
“Well, this is the last place she ate or drank anything. I’m still waiting on the lab report, but it seems likely that it was here, yeah. Is there any way you could find out who made her drinks?”  
“Well, you can check the security cameras, but… we were at capacity last night.”  
“That’s a lot of people to try and track. And we don’t know when she took the poison.”  
“Exactly.” He turned and called to Maze, who sauntered over with a challenging glance at Chloe.   
“Who was working last night?” Lucifer asked.   
“Peter, Carl and Jack were on the bar. Stacey, Tiffany, Amanda, Bree and Kristy were waitressing.”  
“And you?” Chloe asked.   
“And me,” Maze confirmed.   
Chloe turned back to Lucifer. “I’m going to need their full names and addresses.”  
Lucifer tilted his head in assent to Maze, who sighed and stalked off towards the back rooms of the club. 

“Is there anything you can tell me about last night? Who served you, anything?” Chloe asked.  
Lucifer picked his glass up and swallowed the last of his whiskey, obviously thinking. “The Brittanies weren’t here very long. We had two, maybe three drinks before she started to feel sick and they called an Uber. That was… oh, around 1.30.”  
Chloe nodded. “That matches with what Brittany Thompson told us. Do you remember who was serving you?”  
“Maze, of course.” Lucifer shrugged like that was a foregone conclusion. “But I’ve got no idea who poured the drinks, Detective. I was at the piano most of the night.”  
“So it could have been any of the bartenders.”  
Lucifer nodded agreement as Maze came back with a list in her hand.  
“Here.” She shoved it towards Chloe before walking away.  
Chloe shook her head at Maze’s attitude before unfolding the list and scanning it quickly. “Ok. Thanks, Lucifer. And if you think of anything else—”  
“I’ll let you know.”

***  
Lucifer watched the Detective make her way out of the club, his eyes narrowed in anger. That poor young girl. Why had someone targeted her? She’d been so young and innocent, no evil in her at all— and he should know. And that someone would have the audacity to do this at Lux, of all places! At least Detective Decker was on the case; better than Detective Douche.

His scowl deepened. The Detective. When she’d first spoken to him, for a moment he’d actually believed that she’d come looking for him because she’d wanted to see him. Well, he’d been wrong. If Brittany hadn’t been killed, the Detective would never have come near him again.  
He’d misjudged her, badly. Gotten so caught up in the differences he still didn’t understand that he’d forgotten that she was human, with all a human’s prejudices and indoctrination.   
If he’d misjudged her on something so fundamental as her ability to see past his reputation, could he really trust her to go after the right person for Brittany’s murder? After all, she’d arrested the wrong person for killing Ali Thornton, even if she had gotten it right eventually— with his help.  
He got to his feet, walking down the back passageways of the club to the office. Finding a spare USB drive, he downloaded last night’s security camera footage to the device, unplugging it and tucking it into his jacket pocket. He’d take it to the station; surely that would help make sure the Detective was on the right track.

The telltale creak of leather caught his attention. Maze was leaning on the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest, her attitude making her disapproval clear.  
“What is it, Maze?”  
“I thought you were done with your little detective.”  
“This isn’t about her, Maze,” Lucifer snapped. “Someone poisoned a girl here, under my own roof. This is about punishment.”  
“Right,” Maze scoffed, giving him a disbelieving look before walking away.


	3. Chapter 3

Chloe leafed through the background information she had on Brittany Hoang as she walked down the hallway back to her desk, trying to keep her focus on the victim and not on her unexpected meeting with Lucifer. She’d had to force herself to remain businesslike while she’d been at Lux; in the weeks since she’d discovered the truth, what felt like an unending series of questions had bubbled up inside her, and she’d had to stop herself from firing them all at him instead of asking him about the victim.  
“You get a new case?”  
She started a little, looking sideways as Dan joined her.  
“Yeah. Young girl got poisoned. Bit of a weird one; I’ve got a club full of suspects but no motive so far.”  
“Need an assist?”  
Chloe shot another glance at him, remembering how smugly pleased he’d looked when she’d stopped working with Lucifer. Did she really want to deal with Dan’s jealousy on this one? Especially if she needed to question Lucifer again? She’d rather work alone than have her case derailed by Dan’s issues.  
“Nope. Nope, I got it. Besides, I thought you and Malcolm were working that homicide out near the airport.”  
“Yeah—“ Dan began noncommittally before he broke off, staring at something before turning back to her with a frown.  
“Thought you were done with that guy.” He gestured towards her workspace. Surprised, Chloe saw the tall figure of Lucifer half-sitting on one edge of her desk. Considering his anger and borderline hostility earlier at Lux, she definitely hadn’t expected him to seek her out.  
“He’s a witness, Dan.”  
Dan rolled his eyes, holding up the file he was carrying defensively.  
“The club full of suspects? It was Lux?”  
“Yeah.”  
Dan scoffed. “Of course it was.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“Just… be careful, alright?”

Shaking her head, she walked away from her ex-husband. She’d been right; as soon as Dan knew Lucifer was involved in this case, his jealousy had come back to the surface. What was it with those two?  
Unbidden, the memory of Dan trying to intimidate Lucifer in the warehouse on Palmetto Street popped into her head. _The Devil. Dan tried to intimidate the Devil,_ she thought. She bit the inside of her lip, trying to keep from laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation. _No wonder he hadn’t succeeded._  
“Well, someone isn’t pleased to see me,” Lucifer commented as she joined him.  
“Maybe that’s because you keep calling him Detective Douche.”  
“That’s awfully defensive. Ugh, don’t tell me you two are back together.” Lucifer rolled his eyes, a note of disgust in his voice.  
Chloe crossed her arms, unwilling to discuss her personal life with Lucifer. There was no way she could explain that the current problems in her relationship with Dan had actually been caused by Lucifer without Lucifer getting the entirely wrong idea; but since she’d found out the truth, she’d been so absorbed in everything it meant that she’d pushed Dan away more and more. One of the many things Lucifer’s revelation had changed.

“What are you doing here anyway? I thought you said you weren’t helping on this case,” she retorted.  
“I’m not here to help you. I’m here to find out who killed that poor girl,” Lucifer replied, his voice tinged with anger.  
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and extracted a USB drive, holding it out to her.  
“Here. The security footage from Lux.”

She plugged the drive into the side of her computer and sorted through the files till she found the camera covering the piano. Loading the footage, she raised her eyebrows.  
“Sheesh. That’s a lot of people.”  
“I did tell you we were at capacity.”  
Chloe ignored his tone, watching the timestamp in the corner of the footage as she fast forwarded. “Uber records show the girls were picked up at 1.37am. How long did you say they were with you?”  
“An hour or so.”  
“Or so?”  
“Well I wasn’t exactly looking at my watch now, was I?” Lucifer snapped.  
Stopping the footage at the time the Uber records said the girls had left the club, she began to reverse through the clips. “There.” She paused the footage at the image of the two Brittanies approaching the piano. “Wait. They’ve already got drinks in their hands.”  
“So? It is a nightclub, Detective. People go there to have fun.”  
“So who served them?” she asked. “Anyone that touched anything the victim ate or drank last night is a possible suspect.” She looked closer at the screen. “They came from the bar…” she minimised the window, searching through the files until she found one covering the bar area.  
“What are you doing?” Lucifer asked.  
“I’m trying to track their movements back to when they got to Lux.”  
“So you can see if anyone else handled their drinks?”  
“Yeah.” She paused the footage. “Did you see that?” she asked, twisting in her chair to look up at Lucifer.  
“See what?”  
She ran the footage back slowly.  
“There.”  
Lucifer leaned over the back of her chair.  
“It looks like he swapped glasses with Brittany.”  
Choe nodded. “Yeah.” She hit play, slowing the tape down as far as possible. “Can’t really see his face. Is there another camera near the bar?”  
Lucifer nodded. “On the back wall, behind the register.”  
"I didn't think anyone would try stealing from you."  
"The insurance company insisted. Maze is a far more effective deterrent."

***  
Lucifer watched as the Detective loaded the footage from the camera he’d mentioned, straightening up and taking a step back from her chair. He’d gotten caught up in her search through the tapes, and for a few minutes it had felt like nothing had changed.  
Her remark, however, had pulled his attention back to the elephant in the room. 

They weren’t partners. They weren’t friends. She’d severed that connection the night he’d burned his wings, as surely as Maze had cut the wings from his back. The only reason she’d sought him out was because she’d had to; because she’d needed the information he could give her. If it hadn’t been for Brittany’s death, he would never have seen her again.

Was that the reason she hadn’t peppered him with questions about being the Devil like he’d expected? She hadn’t needed or wanted to know anything more because she’d cut him out of her life? His jaw tightened against the unexpected stab of pain.

Well, two could play at that game. He’d help with this case, simply so that Brittany’s killer would be found and punished, and then he’d do exactly what the Detective had done— walk away.

“Yes!”  
The Detective’s triumphant exclamation broke into his thoughts. He watched as she zoomed in on her subject’s face, saving the image, emailing it to someone and sending a copy to the printer.

“I’ll get the forensics guys to run this through facial recognition.” She stood up, collecting the photo she’d printed and sliding it into the file.  
“You coming?”  
“Where exactly are we going?”  
“We need to talk to the roommate again. And your employees. See if anyone recognises this guy or saw him switch drinks with the victim.”  
He scoffed. “If they’d seen him switch glasses, Detective, they would’ve kicked the chap out of the club.”  
“Okay, well they still might recognise him,” she pointed out. “Or have seen something else suspicious that we didn’t see on the tapes.” Chloe paused. “You used to like talking to potential suspects.”  
“Yes, well, things change, don’t they?”

***  
As much as Chloe was reluctant to admit it, she’d missed Lucifer’s company over the past three weeks. The car had seemed quiet and empty with his observations about the latest case, digs at Dan, and his occasional wildly inappropriate comments.  
But this? This was worse. The silence inside the car was oppressive, and her almost-former partner practically radiated anger. Anger which for the first time seemed at least partly directed at her. She shivered involuntarily, earning herself a dark sideways glance. Lucifer had a temper, she knew— as the Devil, it was practically in the job description. She’d seen it unleashed against suspects; was it possible— No. She shut that train of thought down. Lucifer was only a danger to the guilty, she knew that instinctively.  
She pulled the car into a convenient spot in front of the Brittanies apartment building and killed the engine before turning to Lucifer.  
“Brittany Hoang and Brittany Thompson shared an apartment here. I haven’t been able to find anything that could give Brittany Thompson motive to kill her roommate— but she was the last person to see Brittany alive. So. I need you to do whatever it is you do to find out what she knows and rule her out as a suspect. Okay?”

***  
“Do you recognise this man?”  
Chloe handed the photograph she’d printed to Brittany Thompson, who looked at it, shaking her head.  
“No. Is this him? Is this who hurt Brittany?”  
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Chloe told her gently. “You’ve never seen him before?”  
“No. Wait… he was at Lux, last night. He tried to talk to Brittany, but—” she hesitated.  
“But?”  
She cast a sidelong glance at Lucifer, blushing slightly. “We were waiting for Lucifer.”  
From beside her, Chloe heard Lucifer chuckle and stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “So other than that, you didn’t have any contact with him? Didn’t notice anything strange?”  
The younger woman shook her head. Chloe shifted gears, aware that she still needed to rule Brittany out as a suspect. “So you were both waiting for Lucifer? That didn’t make you jealous?”  
“No, why would it? The two of us— that was part of the fun. We wanted to see if his reputation was true.”  
“Oh, it is. I assure you.”  
This time Chloe did roll her eyes, unwilling to delve into Lucifer’s outrageous sexual habits. Brittany gave Lucifer a tremulous smile before her face crumpled.  
“Okay.” She looked over at Lucifer. “Anything else?”  
“Not that I can think of,” he drawled.

The interview over, Chloe led the way back to the car, her jaw tight with frustration. Lucifer had said he was there to make sure that Brittany’s killer was punished, so why wouldn’t he co-operate and help her? She thought she’d made it clear what she wanted him to do— rule Brittany Thompson out as a suspect. 

***  
Lucifer got into the front seat, barely getting a chance to close the door fully before the Detective turned on him angrily.  
“What happened to using your desire trick?”  
“Didn’t need to.”  
“Didn’t need— Lucifer! We needed to rule Brittany out as a suspect—“  
“And we did. You could see as well as I did that that girl had no desire to harm her friend.”  
Lucifer looked away as she pulled into traffic, taking a perverse pleasure in the annoyance on the Detective’s face. He’d moved to LA to be free of his Father’s manipulations, he had no intention of letting someone else start to control him. Especially not some human woman who was apparently perfectly willing to use his skills regardless of her opinion of him.  
As much as it galled him to admit it, Maze had been right. He shouldn’t have trusted the Detective. He should have remembered the lesson he’d learned over countless millennia: the only person he could trust, the only person he could rely on, was himself. 

But he hadn’t. 

Like a fool, he’d believed that this human that he’d begun to like, to care about, was different. 

Well, he’d been wrong. 

For all her surface differences, the Detective was just like all the others. He’d taken a risk and given her knowledge that was forbidden to humans— and she’d rejected him out of hand. 

It shouldn’t bother him. He shouldn’t let the opinion of one insignificant human annoy him so, no matter how intriguing she might be. She’d abandoned him. So why should he care?

***  
Chloe parked the car in the alleyway beside Lux, trailing behind Lucifer as he entered the building and bracing for an angry explosion when he saw the bright yellow crime scene tape that was barricading the stairways down to the main level of the club. Instead, he contented himself with a furious look over his shoulder at her and a muttered string of what she was certain were curses as he ducked under the tape and strode down the stairs to confront the crime scene techs.  
As she took the stairs at a more sedate pace, the crime scene tech beat a hasty retreat, leaving her to deal with the infuriated Devil.  
“You and I both know that this is a waste of time, Detective. Anything that Brittany ate or drank out of last night has long been cleaned. There’s no reason to close my club,” he snapped irately.  
“No, we don’t know that. For all we know, the killer left something behind. Come on, Lucifer, you know we have to do this.”  
He scoffed angrily.  
Exasperated, she grabbed his elbow, dragging him up the stairs and out of earshot of the techs working on the main level of the club.  
“Look, I get that you’re angry with me—“  
He snorted  
“—but if you just talked to me—” she went on.  
“Oh, _now_ you want to talk? You had three weeks, but fine, if you want to talk, let’s talk, shall we? I trusted you, Detective. I showed you the truth in the least terrifying way I could think of.” Off her look, he continued. “I knew you were following me, remember? If I hadn’t wanted you to know the truth, I would’ve just gone back to the penthouse and you would’ve been none the wiser. But I didn’t. I meant for you to see the wings, Detective. And you walked away.” He paused. “You hate it when people assume things about you because of your past life, Detective. And yet you did the exact same thing to me.”

“Is it really your past life, Lucifer? You still tell people you’re the Devil. That doesn’t sound like the past to me.”

“It’s different for you, Detective. It’s not just one teen movie for me,” he snapped. “It’s aeons, an eternity of being what my Father forced me to be. From now until the end of time, my name will be synonymous with every evil imaginable. There is no escaping it for me,” he bit out. “So I did the only thing I could do. I learned to embrace it— on my own terms. I am the Devil, Detective. But despite what you and the rest of humanity believe, I am not and have never been evil.” 

His voice trembled slightly on the last sentence; the raw emotion in his face touched her, dissolving her exasperation and anger. The story of the Devil being cast out of Heaven had been repeated so many times that it was almost impossible to remember that there was a _person_ behind the tale. But there was. And he was standing right in front of her.

For the first time, she could begin to glimpse what it must be like for him. He’d been thrown out and demonised by his own father; for the entirety of human history, the world had been unalterably convinced that he was evil— as was his own family, as far as she could tell. 

He’d been thoroughly rejected by those who were supposed to care for him the most; and while it was impossible that her opinion meant much to someone who was literally an angel, her apparent desertion of him seemed to have cut him more deeply than she would have expected.

She reached out and touched his arm gently. “I don’t think you’re evil, Lucifer. I never have.”

He looked at her, the furious scowl becoming puzzled. “You don’t?”

“No.” A thought hit her. “Wait— you think that’s why I left you on the beach? Who’s jumping to conclusions now?”

“It’s not?”

“Of course it’s not. Lucifer...” she trailed off, shaking her head. Who would have guessed that the Devil could be so insecure? “You saved my life. And you’ve helped me catch what, five murderers? Why on earth would I think you were evil?”

“So why did you walk off then?” he asked exasperatedly.

“I was overwhelmed! Look. I saw your wings, and suddenly I had to accept that something that I’d never believed in was actually true. I’d just seen a fight between an angel and the Devil, and on top of all of that, I’d just found out that my partner— my friend— was the Devil. Until then, I thought you were some rich club owner who hid behind this crazy metaphor, and instead you turn out to be a—a—”  
“Celestial being,” he put in.  
“Celestial being? Really?”  
He nodded.  
“Okay. Celestial being.” She sighed. “I just needed time to process everything, Lucifer.”  
“You ignored me for three weeks, Detective.”  
“Hey, I didn’t see you coming to talk to me,” she pointed out.  
“Would you seek out someone who thinks you’re evil?”  
“I don’t think you’re evil, Lucifer.”  
“Yes, well I know that now.” He gave her the first genuine smile she’d seen from him since he’d discovered his wings were missing from the container that Renny had stolen; she returned it, feeling like some sort of normality had been re-established between them.  
_If normal is the right word when one of you really is the Devil_ , she thought.  
“Okay. Let’s go find out who killed Brittany, okay?”  
“Okay.”

***  
Lucifer watched the Detective walk down the stairs and approach his staff, feeling both baffled and rather touched.  
She didn’t think he was evil. She… accepted him? 

Was it really that simple?  
Simple, yes, and yet… no one had ever really accepted him for who he was. He’d been the black sheep of his family long before he’d been cast out, and since then… well, since then didn’t bear thinking about.  
The only other person that had come close was Maze, and even she couldn’t accept all of him. Soulless as she was, she didn’t understand why he cared— about humanity, about the work he’d been doing with the Detective, about the Detective herself.

And yet, instead of being blinded by the reputation his Father had forced on him, the Detective somehow accepted him as he was. What made her so frustratingly, fascinatingly different?

***

Jack Walker joined the rest of the staff of Lux at the edge of the police tape, listening to them bemoaning the loss of their night’s tips while he smiled internally. They didn't know what he knew. They didn’t know that this closure of Lux wasn’t a temporary thing. Looking around, he mentally noted that the entire staff was here, not just the employees that were supposed to work that night. So Tiffany the gossip had sent her text to everyone, as he’d suspected.  
The dancers and the waitresses had gathered together, excitedly speculating on why the club had been closed, as if it was the first time Lux had turned into a crime scene.

Well, he didn’t have to speculate. He knew.

Lucifer Morningstar was dead.

He’d been uneasy about the man who claimed to be the Devil from the moment he hired on to tend bar. Lucifer’s way of life— the drinking, the drugs, the indiscriminate sex with partners of both genders, the way he constantly took the Lord’s name in vain— didn’t sit well with the tenets of the religion Jack had been raised to believe in, but he’d taken the job for lack of a better offer, reasoning that an immoral workplace was better than starving to death. 

Now, of course, he knew better. Now he knew that God had led him to work in this den of iniquity for a reason. More than faith, he had rock-solid knowledge that he was destined to be here, to destroy the man that dared to claim he was the outcast son of God and revel in the evil of the Devil’s reputation. God had sent one of his angels to Jack and given him his divine purpose.

As he watched, the police detective that Lucifer had been so obsessed with walked down the stairs to the main level and approached the staff where they’d been gathered by the uniformed officers. Jack knew he’d have to watch his step with the detective. While he knew that he was right to destroy Lucifer, a secular organisation like the LAPD wouldn’t recognise that he answered to a higher power. 

“This all the staff?” she asked the uniformed officer that had been watching over the employees.  
“Yes, Detective.”  
“Okay. Thanks.” She turned to the group of employees. “I’m Detective Decker. I’ve just got a few questions for each of you, and then you’ll be free to go.” She looked at the group and pointed at Jack where he stood closest to the police tape. “Do you mind if we start with you?”  
Jack shook his head, following the detective to the table she’d evidently set aside for her interviews.

***  
The detective slid a grainy photograph across the table to him.  
“Do you know this man?”  
Jack picked it up and looked at the man’s face, shrugging. “I think he was here last night, but I’m not sure. It was packed in here.”  
“You didn’t notice anything suspicious about him? Nothing strange?”  
He shook his head, wondering what this was all about. Surely they didn’t think this guy— this nobody— killed Lucifer?  
Detective Decker passed him another photo.  
“That’s one of the Brittanies,” he recognised instantly. “They were here last night, with Mr Morningstar.” Suddenly alarmed, he looked up. “Did something happen to her?”  
“She was found dead this morning,” the detective told him. “This is one of the last places she was seen alive. Is there anything you can tell me? Anything out of the ordinary?”

***  
Jack walked away from the interview table, shaken. Had he killed...

No. He shook his head. A girl like that, she could’ve died any number of different ways. She’d been what his mother had always called ‘no better than she ought to be’; a harlot, same as every other woman that came to this place. He hadn’t been responsible for her death.  
But what about Lucifer? Had his body simply not been discovered yet?  
For a moment he considered going up to the penthouse himself, before reasoning that the less of a connection he had to his former boss, the better.

Movement at the top of the stairs to the upper level caught his attention. As he watched in disbelief, Lucifer himself descended the steps with his usual easy stride and approached the detective.

Jack’s jaw dropped a little. Lucifer was still alive? How was that possible? The dose Jack had put in his drink the night before should’ve killed a person within hours; he’d done his research before he’d bought the poison. He’d even dosed an extra drink to be sure. And he knew they’d been Lucifer’s drinks, so how was he still alive?  
Unless... he closed his eyes as the sick truth hit him. Unless Lucifer had given the dead girl one of his drinks. He was carelessly generous, Jack knew— up until he’d been shown the truth, the high pay rate had been the only thing keeping him working in this sinful pit. Giving the dead girl his much higher quality drink was exactly the sort of thing Lucifer would do.

That hadn’t been part of his plan. Brittany had been far from innocent, but she hadn’t committed an unforgivable sin. She still could’ve been saved.

***  
Chloe looked up as Lucifer came down the steps from the upper level and strode over to join her.  
“Hey. Where did you get to?” she asked.  
“Oh, I just needed a moment.” He raised an eyebrow, changing the subject. “So. Where did you get with the interviews?”  
“One down, at least another thirty-five to go. I had no idea you had this many employees.”  
“All part of keeping Lux the city’s pre-eminent party venue, Detective.”  
“Uh huh. You know, this would go a lot faster if you’d use your hypno eye thingy.”  
“Thingy?” he repeated in accents of disgust.  
“Well, unless you want to do thirty-five interviews the slow way…”  
He sighed. “You know, most of them do at least know about my abilities, Detective.”  
“That doesn’t stop them from working though, does it?”  
“No, the only person I know of that’s immune is you.” He cocked his head, looking at her questioningly. “Are you certain you’re human?”  
She gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “Lucifer.”  
“Alright, fine,” he capitulated. “But only because I want my club open again.”

***

Lucifer watched Chloe as the car hummed along the streets toward the station, and Chloe watched the road. It was clear to him that she had questions, but something was stopping her from asking them. He knew now that it wasn’t because she’d decided to cut him out of her life— something that left him feeling content for no explicable reason— so what was the reason for her reticence?  
She sighed and shifted in her seat, making him grin.  
“Ask the question, Detective.”  
“What?” She glanced sideways at him. “What question?”  
“The one I can see you struggling to hold in. Go ahead, ask it.”  
“Okay. Why did you let me see your wings?”  
“Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”  
She snorted. “That’s not an answer. People have killed for your wings, they’ve died for them... so why show me?”  
“Because I wanted to. And it would piss my Father and my brother off, which was an added bonus. Humanity isn’t supposed to have proof of divinity.” He regarded her curiously for a moment. “You know, I’m surprised you haven’t asked me more questions about the whole ‘I’m really the Devil’ thing. Afraid of what you’ll find out?”  
“No. Look, I do have questions. A _lot_ of questions. But we’re in the middle of a case, and besides... I thought you’d want to be treated normally.” She looked over at him again. “Why isn’t humanity supposed to have proof? I mean, I thought it would settle the whole ‘does God exist?’ debate once and for all?”  
“It would. But, well, most humans can’t handle it. It tends to melt your brains a little.” He shrugged. “You pointed it out yourself, Detective. People killed for my wings.”  
She looked at him sharply. “Wasn’t showing them to me a gamble?”  
“I love a good gamble. Paid off though, didn’t it?” He grinned at her before sobering. “I hoped that whatever it is that makes you so unaffected by me would let you react... differently to the rest of humanity. And I was right.”

There was an undertone to his voice that surprised her. He sounded... she cast about in her mind, trying to put a name to it. Almost... lonely? Was that possible?  
It was, she supposed. He’d only mentioned one brother, Amenadiel, though Chloe knew there was mention of other angels in the Bible. And Lucifer and Amenadiel clearly didn’t have a good relationship. He was estranged from his Father, and from what he’d said about humanity’s reaction to divinity, she doubted there were other humans out there who knew the truth. Lucifer was usually surrounded by people, but they always seemed to be either women attracted to his particular brand of charm, or people that owed him favours.  
Chloe cast him another sideways glance. She’d never realised how alone he was under his playboy lifestyle. Was Maze his only friend? Well, she resolved, he had another one now.

Lucifer shifted in his seat, cleary uneasy about the glimpse he’d inadvertently given her into his inner self. “So. What’s our next move? With the case, I mean.”  
Chloe sighed. “The interviews didn’t give us anything we can use. No one seems to know who our guy is. So I’ve put out a BOLO, hopefully we get a hit.” 

***

Chloe got out of the elevator and started her practised weave through the desks and bullpens towards her workspace. She paused as she drew level with Dan’s office, reasoning that she should probably try to start making amends. Tapping on the door, she swung it open and stepped inside.  
“Hey. You done with your case already? That was fast.”  
“Yeah, pretty cut and dried. Our suspect’s prints were all over the murder weapon. You?”  
She made a noncommittal sound. “Got a suspect that was seen at the club, but we’ve done what feels like a hundred interviews and no one knows who he is.”  
Dan cocked his head. “We?”  
“Lucifer helped,” she responded.  
“So what, he’s gone from being a witness to working the case?”  
“He’s worked cases with me before Dan, I don’t see the harm.”  
“You’re the one that cut him off, Chloe. You really letting him back in that easily?”  
“That’s my decision, Dan. I’ve got work to do.”  
She turned and opened the door, intending to leave and go back to her desk.  
“I think you should stay away from Lucifer.”  
She froze with one hand still on the door handle, turning back towards Dan slowly. “Did you seriously just tell me to stay away from Lucifer?”  
“Yeah. Look, I don’t trust the guy. I think he’s shady. And I think it’s possible that he had something to do with the case you’re working on.”  
“What?” she asked disbelievingly, her eyes narrowing.  
“The girl was killed in his club, yeah? And he knew the victim.”  
She snorted dismissively. “If you really think that, then you don’t know Lucifer.”  
Dan stepped closer. “I don’t think you do, either.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped.  
“Look, all I’m saying is you need to be careful. It’s not that long since you thought he was shady too.”  
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, and I was wrong.”  
“The guy is dangerous, alright? Just promise me you’ll stay away from him.”  
“No,” she ground out, goaded to fury at Dan’s assumption that he could dictate who she associated with.  
“What?”  
“You don’t have the right to tell me who I can spend time with, Dan. You don’t get to pick my friends,” she snarled.  
Dan snorted.  
“He doesn’t just want to be your friend.”  
“That’s none of your business either, Dan.”  
“Are you sleeping with him?”  
“You know what, Dan? Go to hell.”  
She stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

***  
Lucifer fell into step with the Detective as she rounded the corner.  
"You know, he probably is."  
"What?" She looked at him with eyes still narrowed from her fight with Dan.  
"Going to Hell. Far be it for me to question someone's morality, but he never struck me as being terribly virtuous," he commented.  
“You heard that, did you?”  
“Some of it, anyway.” He paused, unable to tell her exactly how much her words meant to him. “Detective?” he said seriously. “Thank you. For defending me.”  
She stepped closer, touching him on the arm briefly. “You’re not dangerous, Lucifer.”  
He smiled at her, absurdly moved by her faith in him, then coughed to cover the vulnerable moment.  
“You know, if you ever did want to become more than friends—“  
“You never give up, do you?”  
Her phone dinged; shaking her head and ignoring his soft chuckle, she pulled it out of her pocket and read the message before turning back to Lucifer.  
“The drink swapper. Unis are bringing him in.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chloe crossed her arms, watching the man the uniformed officers had brought in through the one way glass.   
Lucifer walked up and stood beside her. Without turning her head, she started to fill him in.  
"His name's Trent Buckley, he's 25. Picked up three months ago for public intoxication."  
"Public intoxication? That's still a crime?"  
"Misdemeanour."  
Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Well, don't spend too much time outside of Lux, your holding cell would be full in no time." He chuckled.  
"This isn't funny, Lucifer. He was walking down Hollywood Boulevard yelling obscenities at the tourists."  
Lucifer laughed harder. "Oh come on, Detective, how is that not funny?"  
"It’s not like he was critiquing their fashion sense, Lucifer, he was screaming that they were going to Hell. One woman nearly stepped into traffic trying to avoid him."  
"Well to be fair, at least some of them probably are."  
"Really not my point."  
She wrenched the door open, leaving the observation room and entering interrogation. Lucifer entered close behind her, shutting the door and standing with his hands buried deeply in his pockets, his eyes hooded by the shadows present at the edges of the room. Even Chloe had to admit he looked sinister. Giving herself a mental shake, she turned her attention back to their suspect.

“Trent Buckley? I’m Detective Decker. We’ve just got a few questions for you. Can you confirm your whereabouts last night between 11 and 1.30am?”  
He shrugged. “Home.”  
Chloe heard Lucifer snort at the obvious lie.  
“Really?” she asked. “Because we’ve got you on tape switching drinks at the bar at Lux last night. With this girl.” She laid the picture she’d pulled from Brittany’s drivers license on the table. “Care to explain?”  
“Why? Switching drinks isn’t a crime.”  
“No. But impeding a police investigation is. And so is murder.” Chloe put the crime scene photo down in front of Trent.   
“Oh god. What happened to her?”  
“She was poisoned.” Lucifer spoke from the shadows near the door, stepping forward and hitching one hip up onto the table. “Around the same time that you swapped glasses with her. So what was it, eh? You trying to roofie her, Trent?” He spat the last word.   
“What? No—I—“  
Lucifer leaned closer, making eye contact with their suspect. “What was it you desired? Come on. You can tell me.”  
“I— I just wanted my drink.”  
Lucifer glanced at Chloe, one eyebrow raised.   
“What do you mean, your drink?” she pressed.   
Trent tore his gaze away from Lucifer.  
“The— the girl next to me, she ordered neat Scotch. I ordered mine on the rocks. The bartender, he screwed them up. I tried to tell him but he didn’t hear me. The girl ignored me when I tried to get her attention, so I just switched the glasses. And I wasn’t trying to roofie her. I’m gay; that’s why I was at Lux in the first place. I just broke up with my boyfriend and I wanted to have a little fun, that’s all. I swear.”

***  
Lucifer held the door and let the Detective pass out of the interrogation room in front of him before falling into step with her.   
“I think he’s telling the truth. How annoying.”  
“Yep. Puts us back at square one.” Her phone dinged; pulling it out of her pocket, she unlocked it. “Or maybe not. Toxicology report’s in.”

Turning, she strode back to her desk, Lucifer following her and looking over her shoulder as she brought up the report.  
“Coroner confirms Brittany died of methanol poisoning.”  
Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Methanol? Like terminal alcoholics drink? At Lux? That will never do."  
"A girl is dead and you're worried about your reputation?"  
"Of course! Bottom shelf is bad enough, I can’t have it being said that we serve something beneath even that.”  
The Detective shook her head at him, focusing her attention back on the report.   
“According to this, the victim took the poison three to four hours before she died. Which means it happened between 12.30am and 2 o’clock.”  
“Well that lets Glass-Swapper off the hook. The Brittanies were with me by then,” Lucifer observed.  
“Yeah.” The Detective gave him an uneasily speculative look.   
He cocked his head. “What?” he asked, momentarily confused before he realised what was wrong. “Oh, I get it. Dan told you he thinks I’m involved in all this.”  
“He did.”  
“Of course he did. And… ah, what do you think, Detective?”  
“I know you didn’t kill that girl, Lucifer.”  
He grinned at her, feeling an unexpected surge of relief at her faith in his innocence.   
“But I have to be able to prove it.”  
“Well, that’s easy. The security footage. The only drinks I touched were my own.”  
“And we can see who else did handle their glasses.”  
“Exactly.”  
“Okay.” She opened the footage from the camera with the best view of the piano and started fast forwarding through the recording.  
“Can you give me a hand?”  
He leant one hand on the back of her chair, leaning slightly over her shoulder.   
“Nope, you’ve gone too far. That was after the Brittanies left.”  
“Wait.” She paused the footage, looking up at him. “Are you singing?”  
“Yes, of course.” She rewound the footage as he gave her a puzzled look. “You didn’t know I sang?”  
“No! I mean, I’ve heard you play, but—“  
“Yes, I’m a Devil of many talents. Look.” He tapped the screen. “That’s the Brittanies leaving.”  
“Right.” She set the recording to play backwards in quadruple time, grabbing a pad and a pen to note anyone that came into contact with the victim’s drinks.

***

Chloe stopped the footage at the point where the victim and her companion crossed to the piano, glad to have her belief in Lucifer’s innocence vindicated.   
“The only people that touched the Brittanies drinks were the bartender, Maze, and the Brittanies themselves.” She let the pen she’d been using fall to the surface of the desk. “Looks like you’re off the hook.”  
“See? Told you.”  
“But the only connection between Brittany and either Maze or the bartender is Lux. It doesn’t make any sense.”  
“Well, what if Brittany wasn’t the target?” He half sat on the edge of the desk  
“You think they were after you?”  
“It wouldn’t be the first time. I’m the Devil, Detective. Somebody wanting to destroy me is a bit of an occupational hazard.”  
She stared up at him for a moment before shaking her head. “Your life is so weird.”  
“You don’t know the half of it.”  
“Okay. Let’s say you were the target. Why? I mean, I’m guessing your bartender doesn’t know you’re really the Devil.” She looked back up at him. “Maze isn’t trying to kill you, is she?”  
“Very funny.” He gave her a sour look. “No, if Maze were trying to kill me, she wouldn’t use poison. She prefers the direct approach, which usually involves knives.”  
“So it has to be the bartender. But if he was trying to poison you, how did Brittany end up dead instead? Were the two of you drinking the same thing or something?”  
He shifted uneasily. “Not exactly.”  
She fixed him with a glare. “What does that mean?”  
“I did give Brittany one of my drinks.”  
“What?”  
“She ordered some bottom shelf blended whiskey and I gave her my single malt. I didn’t mention it before because we thought that she was the target.”  
“That’s why Maze made two trips to the piano so close together.”  
He nodded. “Yes, I asked her to get me another drink.”  
“Lucifer! If you’d told me that earlier we wouldn’t have been chasing the wrong person all this time!”  
“We didn’t know she wasn’t the target, Detective! Besides, why would I think one of my staff was trying to kill me?”  
“You were with the dead girl right before she was poisoned, Lucifer.”  
“Yes, same as I was with Delilah right before she was killed, and the thought that those shots were meant for me never entered either of our heads, Detective,” he pointed out. “Besides, shouldn’t we be going to arrest— which bartender is it?”  
“Jack Walker.”  
“Shouldn’t we be going to arrest him instead of arguing?”  
She sighed. “We can’t. The only evidence we have is circumstantial.” She drummed her fingers on the desk. “But we can bring him in for questioning.” She stood up, grabbing her keys. “Let’s go.”

***  
Chloe tapped on the door, surveying the nondescript surroundings. Walker lived on the ground floor of a multistorey apartment complex that she was fairly certain hadn’t been maintained since it had been built at least three decades earlier. Next to her, Lucifer raised an eyebrow as he scanned the hallway.   
“I wonder what Mr Walker spends his money on. It’s certainly not his apartment.”  
Chloe looked at him questioningly.  
“Well, I know I pay him better than this.”  
She shook her head, rapping harder on the door.  
“Jack Walker? LAPD, we need to ask you a few questions.”  
She listened at the door for a few moments, hoping for sounds of movement from inside the apartment and hearing nothing. She sighed, using her closed fist to pound on the door as specks of flaking paint drifted to the worn vinyl flooring.  
“LAPD, open up!”

The creak of hinges caught her attention as the door to the neighbouring apartment swung open.  
“Are you looking for Jack?”  
Chloe turned, seeing a short, stocky woman in her mid-forties watching them.  
“He’s not home. He left… oh, about an hour ago. In a big hurry, too,” she told them.  
Chloe stepped towards the woman. “Do you know where he went?”  
She shook her head. “I’m Julia Walsh, the building super. Is he in trouble?”  
“We just want to ask him a few questions.” Chloe pulled her jacket aside so the super could see her badge. “I’m Detective Decker. Could you possibly let us into Mr Walker’s apartment? It is really important that we find him.”  
She could see the doubt and unease spread across the other woman’s face.

“I wouldn’t want to get Jack into trouble—” she began.

Lucifer stepped forward, gently pushing Chloe out of the way and holding his hand out to the older woman with a winning smile on his face. Mentally Chloe rolled her eyes, knowing what was coming.  
“Julia, allow me to introduce myself. Lucifer. Morningstar.”  
The superintendent took Lucifer’s hand; as Chloe watched, a faint blush spread across her cheeks.  
“You’re Jack’s boss.”  
“That’s right.” His smile widened. “My associate, Detective Decker, and I are just a bit worried about Jack.” He leaned in a little closer. “You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to him now, would you?”  
Julia shook her head. “No, no I wouldn’t.”  
“Of course not. So if you could just let us in?”  
She pulled a ring of keys out of her pocket, sorting through them to find the right one with a dazed expression on her face and the odd glance at Lucifer. Finding the right one, she unlocked the door and twisted the knob.  
“Thank you.” Lucifer grinned at her while Chloe shook her head.

She waited until the super was out of earshot before she turned to Lucifer.  
“I don’t know how you do that.”  
He shrugged. “It’s a gift.” Stepping through the open doorway, he looked around disparagingly.   
Chloe had to agree with his unspoken assessment. Drawers and cabinet doors hung open; a jumble of papers sat untidily on the kitchen counter, and the couch cushions lay on the floor. Advancing slowly, Chloe cleared each room, finding that the mess extended throughout the apartment. Clothes were strewn over the bed and on the floor in the single bedroom; essential toiletries were missing from the tiny bathroom, and a torn, empty duffel bag lay on the ground in the short hallway.  
Holstering her gun, she rejoined Lucifer in the messy and dilapidated kitchenette.  
“I’m no expert,’ he commented. “But either someone was looking for something—”  
“Or he was running. Yeah.”


	5. Chapter 5

Jack Walker shifted uneasily, checking his watch. The line to get through security snaked on for what felt like forever; already he’d been standing in it for over half an hour, and he didn’t seem to be getting any closer to the front of the line. 

In the taxi, he’d searched for the cheapest flights he could find to Caracas on his phone, deliberately choosing the one with the earliest departure time and sending silent apologies to God for not being able to tithe his full percentage to the church this month. The authorities here in the US would certainly take a dim view of the death of Brittany, no matter how debauched she’d been.   
It was a shame, really. She could have been saved from her life of sin. He shrugged. It didn’t matter. She’d been collateral damage in his quest to destroy Lucifer. His only regret was that he hadn’t been able to finish his mission.

***  
Chloe turned to Lucifer. “Okay. I’ve put out a BOLO for Walker. FBI and DHS will be looking at border crossings—”  
“You know I’ve no idea what any of that means, right?”  
She gave him a glare for his interruption and his stubborn refusal to learn any of the technicalities of police work. “But if we could find anything here to tell us where he’s going, that would really help,” she finished.  
Together, they looked at the small and untidy living area. Everything in view— the furniture, TV, even the odds and ends strewn around the place— spoke of cheap junk and thrift store finds.  
“The nearest Walmart would be my guess,” Lucifer commented.  
“What’s with all the crosses?” Chloe asked as she stretched up and started searching the high kitchen cabinets. They seemed to fill nearly every available inch of wall space in the living area and— she craned her head to see better— the tiny hallway.  
“Yes, they really are everywhere, aren’t they? Tacky.” He wandered towards the kitchen counter, chuckling at the gaudily gilded cross hanging above it.  
“That doesn’t bother you?”   
“Why should it? Oh, because I’m the Devil?”  
“Well, yeah,” she responded.  
He snorted with amusement. “Look, Detective, all the things that you see about me in movies and on TV are wrong. You can’t get rid of me by throwing holy water on me, crosses have no effect on me, I could go to church if I was so inclined, and casting me out only works for my Father.”  
“No tail or horns?” she asked, grinning at him as she remembered their conversation in the car on the night she’d shot him.  
“Exactly!” He grinned back at her before turning his attention back to the papers he’d been leafing through. “Oh, hello, look at this.”  
“What’d you find?”   
“His chequebook… well, no wonder he doesn’t have any money. He’s giving hundreds of dollars every month to some church.”  
She closed the cabinet she’d just finished searching and looked over his shoulder, raising her eyebrows at the amounts involved. “If he’s donating that much, chances are he’s not going far.”  
“Mmhmm,” Lucifer agreed. “And it also gives him a motive for trying to kill me. Religious zealots tend not to be my biggest fans.”  
She gave him a confused look. “How can you be so blasé about this?”  
“About what?”  
“Someone could be trying to kill you. Doesn’t that bother you?”  
She went back to her methodical search of the cabinets, crouching to check the low ones and finding the first one crammed with cheap pots and pans.   
“Well, it’s hardly the first time, Detective. Besides, I’m immortal, remember?” He rolled his eyes. “Until recently, that is.”  
“And what is with that? Why could I shoot you in that warehouse?” She gave the leg she’d shot a small shove, making him move aside so she could get to the cabinet under the sink. Lucifer obligingly shifted, moving to the other side of the counter.  
He shrugged, still sifting through the papers on the kitchen counter. “I have absolutely no idea. It wouldn’t surprise me if it’s some new form of punishment my Father’s come up with— for leaving Hell, I mean.”  
She sat back on her heels, looking up at him.  
“You really meant what you said to Amenadiel, didn’t you? That you’re not going back?”  
“I’ve spent millennia being punished for my transgressions, Detective. I think that’s enough, don’t you?”  
Chloe paused, suddenly very aware she was talking to a being that had actually been around since the beginning of time. Just how long had Lucifer spent ruling over Hell? She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the case and opened the cabinet door.  
“Jackpot,” she breathed.  
“What?” He leaned over the counter, trying to see what had caught her attention.  
“An eight ounce bottle of methanol.”  
She stood up, pulling her phone out of the pocket of her jeans and hit the speed dial.  
“Lieutenant? It’s Decker. We found the murder weapon.”

***  
Finally the line began to move as the woman at the head of the queue stuffed her belongings back into her carry-on after submitting to a random bag search. Jack sighed in relief, checking his watch once again. He might make his flight after all; he’d only just made it to check-in before they’d closed, and he hadn’t counted on this interminable wait at security. He’d get through the checkpoint, then occupy himself in the stores on the concourse until he absolutely had to go to the gate. If Detective Decker had figured out his connection to Brittany’s death, there was no sense in making himself easy to find. Once he got to Venezuela, he’d be safe. They had a history of refusing extradition requests; surely his wouldn’t be any different. As for supporting himself, well the Lord would provide. 

As He did right now. Extra TSA agents approached the security checkpoint, starting up the idle x-ray machine and passport scanner and beckoning people from the line Jack was in to form an extra queue. Jack elected to stay where he was, making sure he had his passport and driver’s license ready to present to the agent as the last two people in front of him passed through the metal detector and collected their belongings.  
He slid the tray containing his stuff along the rollers and into the scanner, holding out his documents to the TSA agent checking passports and willing his hand not to shake. This was it; once he was through security, the likelihood of being arrested dropped significantly.

Like it was happening in slow motion, Jack saw the head of the agent processing passports snap up and fix his eyes on him just as he stepped through the metal detector. Instantly, Jack bolted, aware he was being pursued by at least two TSA agents.

He didn’t get far. One of the agents that had given chase tackled him from behind, bringing him painfully to the tiled floor and knocking the wind from his lungs. Before he could get his breath back, his hands had been cuffed behind him and he’d been pulled roughly to his feet.

***  
Lucifer stepped through the door into Walker’s bedroom and scoffed at the sight of the ostentatiously large wooden cross mounted prominently above the bed.  
“Ugh, another cross?” he commented. “What was he trying to do, win some tackiest decor competition?”  
The Detective surveyed him thoughtfully. “You know, this Jack Walker seems like a weird employee for you to have.”  
“What? I don’t give a damn what people do outside of work, Detective. Except for when it ends in the death of a girl from my club, of course.”  
The Detective’s phone chirped in her pocket; Lucifer rolled his eyes at the interruption, stepping away and examining the jumble of clothes on the bed. He didn’t remember Walker being overly religious, the few times they’d spoken since the bartender had started working at Lux a few months earlier. And Maze usually did a good job of weeding those individuals out when she took on a new hire; they didn’t tend to fit in well at the club. So what had happened to Walker?  
The Detective hung up her phone, sliding it into her pocket even as she started for the door.   
“Walker’s been picked up at LAX,” she told him. “We’ve gotta go.”  
Lucifer raised his eyebrows, following the Detective down the hallway as they threaded their way past the crime scene techs.

***

Lucifer got out of the car, shutting the door and adjusting his jacket before following the Detective’s lead across the hot concrete of the parking lot to the terminal buildings.  
“I don’t know why we had to come all the way out to the airport,” Lucifer commented as they entered the comparative coolness of the terminal and turned towards one of the security checkpoints. “Couldn’t they have just brought him to the station?”   
The Detective shook her head. “He’s our guy. If we want him, we’ve gotta go get him. There they are.”  
Lucifer followed the Detective to where several federal agents stood, their quarry handcuffed between them.   
“I’m Detective Decker. This is my associate, Mr Morningstar.”  
“Mister Morningstar?” one of the agents queried, placing what Lucifer felt was an unnecessary emphasis on the ‘mister’.  
“Yes, I’m a civilian consultant,” he informed them absently, his focus on his traitorous employee.  
Far from the mixture of panic and resignation he’d gotten used to seeing on the faces of the people they’d arrested for murder, Walker looked… almost confident. Lucifer tilted his head, his brow furrowing. The Detective was right, there was something strange about this one.   
She signed the prisoner transfer paperwork and grabbed Walker’s arm, gesturing to Lucifer to take the other side.   
“Where are his personal effects?” she queried. The lead agent jerked his head in the direction of one of his junior agents, who produced a cheap-looking black carry-on bag and handed it to the Detective. “He had these on him too.” The agent thrust a clear plastic resealable bag containing what looked like Walker’s keys, wallet and passport in Lucifers direction.  
“Luggage?” the Detective asked.  
“He didn’t have any checked baggage,” the agent that had questioned Lucifer’s status replied.  
“Travelling light were we, Jack?” Lucifer questioned his now-former employee. “Going somewhere in a hurry?”  
The Detective tugged on their suspect’s arm before he could reply, leading them both towards the exit.

***  
Lucifer joined the Detective in the lift, brushing his hands together. The last hour or so spent in the company of Walker had left him feeling strangely dirty. He’d spent the entire trip back to the precinct mumbling to himself in the backseat of the Detective’s car in what Lucifer strongly suspected was prayer. The couple of times Lucifer had leaned around the seat back to try and talk to the bartender, he’d been greeted by silence and a look of pure hatred. It had been oddly unnerving. Was it possible that the bartender-turned-murderer knew he was in fact the Devil? All in all, he’d been glad when it came time to hand the other man into the custody of some of the Detective’s uniformed colleagues. 

Lucifer held up the ziplock bag he’d been handed by the agents, examining the contents. “Ugh, another cross. Seriously, I’ve met priests with less of an obsession with the wretched things,” he commented. He turned the bag around. “That’s odd,” he stated, his tone becoming curious.   
“What’s odd?”   
“He’s got a keychain flask.”  
“So?”  
“So in my experience a silver cross and a keychain flask don’t usually go together, Detective. I doubt someone as pious as our Mr Walker often feels the need for a quick drink.”  
She gave him a look, realisation on her face. “You’re right.”  
“Sorry?”  
The elevator lurched to a stop, the doors sliding open with a muted ‘ding’.  
“Come on.” The Detective strode off, leaving him flat-footed in her wake. He jogged a couple of steps to catch up with her.  
“What is it?”  
“The keychain flask.”  
“What of it?”  
“Well, we found the bottle of methanol at Walker’s apartment. He had to get the poison to Lux somehow.”  
“Ah, like the keychain flask.”  
“Exactly.”  
“Would it be enough, though? I mean, those flasks don’t hold much, barely more than a shot.”  
“That’s what we need to find out.”

***  
Chloe pushed through the glass doors into the forensics lab, attracting the attention of one of the techs with a wave of her hand.  
“Detective Decker. What have you got for me?”  
“Hi Frank. Personal belongings of a suspect in my poisoning case.”  
She motioned for Lucifer to hand over the ziplock bag. Frank took it, his face darkening at the lack of an official evidence bag. “Why isn’t this properly bagged?” he demanded, shooting a look at Lucifer like he’d been responsible for the oversight.  
“TSA gave them to us like that,” Chloe explained. “I don’t think they realised they were potential evidence.”  
Frank snorted in disgust. “What do you want me to look for?”  
“Can you test the flask for methanol?”  
He nodded, already concentrating on transferring the contents of the bag to an evidence packet. He logged the packet number, thrusting the clipboard in Chloe’s direction for her to sign.  
“Cheerful fellow,” Lucifer muttered to her as the surly tech turned away to run his tests. She elbowed him to keep quiet as Frank came back over.  
“We just had a couple of questions.”  
“Like?”  
“How much methanol would it take to kill a person?” she asked.  
“If it’s pure? Between 0.3 of a millilitre and one millilitre per kilogram of body weight. So, for your victim, it could’ve been as little as fifteen millilitres.”  
“But—that’s—” Lucifer observed.  
“Around half an ounce, yeah.” Frank walked away again, checking on the test strip he’d dipped into the flask.  
Chloe turned to Lucifer.  
“His keychain flask. How much do you think it holds?”   
“Two ounces, or thereabouts.”  
“So more than enough to kill Brittany,” she observed.  
“Detective?” Frank called. “The flask is positive for methanol. Fairly high concentration, too.”  
“How high?”  
“Over 90%, probably close to pure.”  
Chloe nodded. “Well, we know how he got it to Lux.”  
“Yes,” Lucifer agreed, sounding somewhat preoccupied.

***  
“Hey. You alright?” The Detective’s voice broke into Lucifer’s abstraction. He looked down at her, his face still set in a scowl.  
“She really didn’t stand a chance, did she? I mean, if he’d put enough in that drink to kill me, then…”  
“No, she didn’t,” the Detective said gently, resting her hand on his arm. “But you can’t blame yourself for that, Lucifer. You couldn’t have known the drink was poisoned.”  
She paused, studying his face.   
“Are you going to be okay with this?”  
He looked at her, confused. “Whatever do you mean?”  
“Well, you know the guy. He’s one of your employees, he killed one of your… friends… and oh, yeah, he might be trying to kill you.” She took a deep breath. “Lucifer, maybe you should sit this one out.”  
“Detective!” he exclaimed, aghast. “You’re not leaving me out of this one. Not when we’ve gotten this far.”  
She regarded him uneasily. “If you step out of line—”  
“He’ll remain unharmed, I promise. Come on.”

***  
Chloe seated herself at the table across from Walker, sparing a quick glance at Lucifer who had elected to remain standing near the door, his attention fixed on the bartender. She wasn’t entirely sure about including Lucifer in this interrogation, but his presence might actually be helpful— provided he could keep his temper under control. She sighed internally, turning her attention to the killer across from her.  
“We know you’re responsible for the death of Brittany Hoang, Mr Walker.”  
“That wasn’t my fault.”  
“So you’re saying that if we tested the residue in your keychain flask, it wouldn’t match the methanol we found in Brittany’s system?”  
“No—I—“  
Lucifer stepped forward. “You never meant to kill Brittany, did you Jack? Tell me, what were you trying to do? What desires are you hiding under that pious little exterior, hmm?”  
“I was trying to kill you!” Jack snarled.  
Lucifer raised an eyebrow, grinning darkly. “Oh? Rather screwed that one up then, didn’t you? After all, I’m still here, and that innocent young girl—“  
“She wasn’t innocent! She could’ve been redeemed. But you— you committed the unforgivable sin. Setting yourself up as the son of God, tempting people into damnation. If you hadn’t given her your drink, she’d still be alive. Her death is your fault, not mine!”  
Lucifer turned his head towards Chloe, his grin becoming triumphant. “That sounds like a confession to me, Detective.”  
“I was doing the Lord’s work! Cleansing the city of heretics and filth!” Walker continued. “She’s better off dead! At least now she can’t be corrupted any further—”  
“By me?” Lucifer snapped. Something about his tone made Chloe turn towards him, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling in alarm.

His face was set in the deepest, most forbidding lines she'd yet seen as he stood there, radiating cold menace. All traces of the private amusement with which he usually approached their suspects had disappeared. Involuntarily, she shivered. This was the side of Lucifer she'd caught only glimpses of: the punisher. And it was as terrifying as the tempter in him was enticing. She shot him a warning glance, hoping that whatever it was that made her able to talk him down held out if he couldn't keep himself in check.

“Let me enlighten you, Jack.” Lucifer spat the name, making it sound like a curse. “You weren’t ‘doing the Lord’s work’. You murdered a young girl, and you tried to murder a son of God.”  
“I tried to kill a blasphemer,” Jack snarled.  
Lucifer tilted his head in a way Chloe found inexplicably chilling. “Really?”  
“I will be rewarded!”  
“Oh, I don’t think so. See, fallen or not, my Father doesn’t take attempts to kill angels kindly.”  
Without warning, Lucifer’s head changed. Gone was the usual handsome face, replaced by a bald mass of red, raw-looking skin and eyes that burned like the fires of Hell. Chloe tried to force herself not to react as she took in what she knew must be his Devil aspect. This must have been what she saw reflected in the warehouse the night she shot him.  
Across the table, Walker began to scream, cowering away from Lucifer.

As quickly as his Devil face had appeared, it was gone and the familiar features of her partner returned, looking grimly satisfied. She exhaled slowly, trying to maintain her composure like it was an everyday occurrence for her partner’s face to be replaced by something monstrous, feeling anger rise up inside her.  
The bartender-turned-murderer was huddled in his chair, tears coursing down his cheeks as he repeated the words ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again. Standing, she strode to the door and signalled for a uni to take him to the holding cells before turning back to her unrepentant partner.  
“Lucifer. Out here, now.”

***   
Chloe grabbed Lucifer by the elbow and dragged him into a mercifully empty room a few steps away before confronting him.

“Lucifer! You can’t torture suspects! How many times have you done that?! Wait— is that why Benny Choi was so terrified of you?”  
“Why not? It gets results, doesn’t it?”  
“Lucifer!” She covered her eyes with one hand. “That’s not how we do things.”  
“Maybe you don’t. Oh come on, Detective, I only ever do it to the guilty.”  
“Damn it Lucifer, that’s not the point!”  
“Well, you’ve been willing to use my particular... skills... before, Detective. I don’t quite see the problem.”  
“That’s different, Lucifer.”  
“How, exactly?”  
“That doesn’t terrify people!”  
“It’s a necessary evil, Detective!”  
“What?”  
“Look. All I’m doing is making them feel guilt for the misdeeds they’ve committed. If they don’t feel that guilt, then they don’t get the punishment they deserve. Can’t have the guilty avoiding Hell, after all.”  
She blinked, confused. “But— I thought— that was your job?”  
He laughed. “What? No! No, I have no say over who goes to Hell and who doesn’t, Detective. You humans are responsible for your own fates.”  
She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. Every time she thought she’d gotten a handle on this whole ‘Lucifer is the Devil’ thing, he said something else that contradicted things she thought she knew.   
“What?”  
“After this case is over, you and I are gonna have a talk,” she told him.  
“Yes, anyway, all of that aside, are you okay, Detective?”  
“What? Why?”  
“Well, you did just describe seeing my Devil face as torture.”  
His abrupt change to concern for her threw Chloe off balance. In truth, she wasn’t sure if she was okay. She’d known Lucifer’s true origins for a few weeks now, but there was a huge difference between knowing he was the Devil and seeing it with her own eyes.   
The buzzing of her phone saved her from the necessity of replying. Gratefully, she pulled it out of her pocket and opened the message.  
“The methanol in Walker’s flask. It was 99% pure.”  
“Ah, so definitely enough to kill Brittany.”  
“Yeah. Frank is going to run some further tests and see if he can match it to the bottle we found in Walker’s kitchen, but that’s it. With his confession, we have enough to charge him with her murder.” She gave him half a smile. “We got justice for Brittany.”  
He nodded, his expression serious. “I’m going to go get a drink.”  
Chloe watched as he walked away. Something didn’t feel right. Was it that someone he knew had died, or that Walker had tried to kill him? Or was it something else entirely?  
Her attention was drawn away by Dan crossing the lobby. She sighed; she really needed to try and make up with Dan after their fight earlier in the day.

She walked across the bullpen, catching him before he made it to his office  
“Dan, about earlier...”  
“What about it?’ he answered her tersely, turning to half-face her.  
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”  
“Okay,” he said flatly, his expression making it clear that he was still stewing over their fight. It galled her; she’d been at fault, but so had he.  
“Alright then.” He turned and started to walk away, down the short hallway towards his office.  
“You’re wrong about Lucifer.”  
He swivelled back towards her. “Yeah? And how do you know that?”  
“It’s... complicated. I can’t explain it, but I know—“  
“Oh, I can guess how you know.”  
“Not this again,” she said exasperatedly. “Dan. I am not sleeping with Lucifer. We’re friends. That’s all.”  
Dan snorted. “He’s clearly got a thing for you, Chloe.”  
“So?” She shook her head slightly as it hit her. “You don’t trust me, do you?”  
“Look, I know what he’s like with women—“ Dan hedged.  
“Wow.”  
'I'm just saying—”  
"I know exactly what you're saying, Dan. You know what? This is never going to work if you don't trust me. I've told you Lucifer and I aren't sleeping together. Lucifer's told you we're not sleeping together. If you still don't trust me after that, then we're done here."  
She turned and walked away, fuming.

***

Lucifer picked up his empty Scotch glass and crossed to the bar, lifting the lead crystal decanter and beginning to pour another drink. As the amber liquid began to wet the bottom of the glass, the flow stopped; Lucifer grinned sardonically in anticipation, knowing who had just landed on his balcony.  
“I was wondering how long it would take before you came sniffing around,” he threw over his shoulder at his brother, putting the decanter down and turning to face Amenadiel. “Come to deliver another of your dire warnings? Or did you simply want to check if I was still alive?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Amenadiel hedged.

“Well, let me enlighten you, brother. You see, I just finished a case with the Detective. A young girl was poisoned in my club last night, and her killer happened to be a member of my staff. A recently converted religious zealot who took sudden exception to his boss masquerading as the son of God.” Lucifer’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Now, in my experience that sort of fervour is inspired by proof. But I’m sure you didn’t expose one Jack Walker to your divinity, did you, brother?”  
He saw the telltale flicker of Amenadiel’s eyes when he mentioned Walker’s name and grinned mirthlessly. “So I have a little warning of my own. If you have any more pawns out there plotting to kill me, call them off. After all, I doubt Father is pleased that this one killed a human, now, is he?” He chuckled darkly, enjoying his elder brother’s discomfiture. “Now, if you’ll excuse me— I have the rest of your mess to clean up.”

***  
Amenadiel lurched into the air off Lucifer’s balcony, feeling unnerved. With his irritatingly accurate insight, Luci had hit on the reason Amenadiel had visited his brother— he’d wanted to know if Lucifer still lived.   
Walker had failed. How had he missed his target so badly? And would Father punish Amenadiel for his actions? He cast an uneasy glance heavenward. He hadn’t actually told Walker to kill Lucifer, just shown him proof of his divinity. Walker’s religious fervour had done the rest— just as Amenadiel had planned.   
But the plan had backfired. Not only was Lucifer still alive, but now he was on his guard. 

***

Lucifer stepped out of the lift and paused, watching curiously as a tradesman in faded overalls slid a nameplate out of the floor directory and replaced it with another. He tilted his head, reading the discreet gold lettering as the tradesman wiped a cloth over the newly placed sign, polishing any residual marks off its surface.   
_Dr Canaan. How Biblical_ , he noted. His eyes narrowing in suspicion, he made his way down the hall to his own therapist’s office.   
It made a certain amount of sense, he acknowledged. His birth name wasn’t common knowledge, Sunday school or no. And her veiled attempt to get him to reclaim the Hellish throne he’d renounced had his brother’s clumsy fingerprints all over it.   
The question was, how had Amenadiel discovered Dr Linda in the first place? 

***

“So. You and Detective Decker are friends again?” Linda asked.  
“Of sorts, yes,” Lucifer agreed.  
“Really? Because the last time we spoke, you seemed fairly certain that you wouldn’t see her again. I believe the word you used was ‘abandoned’.”  
“Yes, but that’s all sorted out now. Turns out it was, well, a bit of a misunderstanding.”  
“In what way?”  
“Well, after I showed her my true self, she disappeared for three weeks—“  
“Your true self? As in…” Linda raised an eyebrow questioningly.  
“After I proved that I’m the Devil.”  
“Ah,” she answered in a tone of sceptical indulgence.  
Lucifer ignored it. “Yes, well, as I was saying, after that she disappeared for three weeks, and I thought it was because she thought that I was evil.”  
“And that’s not the case.”  
“No. No, far from it in fact. She seems to have an inordinate amount of faith in me.” He smiled, an unusually soft smile she’d never seen before on his face . “It’s strange, really.”  
“And why is that?”  
“Well, I’ve never had anyone trust me like that before.”  
“Never? What about your father?”  
“What?” He gave a scornful laugh. “If my Father had had any faith in me at all I wouldn’t be here right now.”  
“Okay. What about Maze?”  
“Well, I’m her boss. Bit of a different relationship there.”  
“So you’re saying that Detective Decker is your first real friend.”  
“Yes, I suppose so.”  
“The fact that it's Detective Decker seems like it's particularly important to you."  
"Well, not important, as such—"  
"Why do you think that might be?"  
Lucifer opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again with a thoughtful look.

***

Linda closed the door behind her most unusual patient, frowning thoughtfully.  
That smile bothered her. It had been... tender. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of one moment she and Lucifer had shared that could be described that way. Passionate, yes, but tender? Definitely not.  
Was Chloe aware of just how deeply Lucifer had begun to care for her? Was _Lucifer_ aware?  
She didn’t think so.  
Linda had known early on that Lucifer had feelings for the detective he’d befriended out of the blue, but she’d gone to bed with him anyway. There was something so compelling, so magnetic about him that she’d been unable to resist.

But now... now it was time to stop. She couldn’t continue to sleep with a man that was clearly in love with someone else. And she couldn’t let her own feelings for Lucifer develop any further.

***  
Lucifer walked back towards the lift, Dr Linda’s question still echoing in his head. Why was the Detective’s friendship so important to him? Truthfully, he didn’t know. She intrigued him, she confused him, she’d changed him in ways he still didn’t understand— but he didn’t know why.  
On impulse, he turned down the hallway to find the office of this Dr. Canaan that had so recently moved into the building. Locating the right door, he grabbed the doorknob, feeling the lock pop open under his hand, and swung the door open.

Inside, the room was depressingly average. Desk, couch, gold-embossed nameplate, the sort of art he associated with low-budget motels on the walls. There was nothing here to explicitly point towards his brother— unless he counted the execrable taste displayed in the choice of furnishings. He would have to find another way to confirm his suspicions. And he thought he knew exactly who to talk to.

***

Malcolm Graham inspected the gun his partner had lifted from evidence with satisfaction. Untraceable, its serial number long since filed off, there was no way it would come back to him— unless his partner talked, and Malcolm didn’t think he had the balls.   
He didn’t know who he was supposed to kill, but did it really matter? No, all that mattered was that he’d never return to Hell. Amenadiel had given his word, and if you couldn’t trust one of God’s angels, then who could you trust? 

***

Lucifer sat down at the piano, letting his hands play a medley that switched from one song to the next at random while his mind processed the events of the day. Amenadiel attempting to murder him by proxy. Linda’s unwitting manipulation of him. Brittany’s death. Betrayal. And overarching it all, the Detective knowing who he really was— and accepting him.

Maze slammed a drinks tray down unnecessarily hard on the piano lid, sloshing a few drops of neat spirit over the side of the glass and jerking Lucifer out of his reverie.  
He let out an exasperated sigh. “What is it, Maze?”  
“I just can’t believe you’re letting that detective back into your life. Have you forgotten what she did to you?”  
“Correction: what I thought she’d done to me. But as it turns out she didn’t betray my trust after all, I see no reason to keep her out.” He picked up the drink she’d brought him and took a sip, looking at her speculatively over the top of the glass. “You know, I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you.”  
“Really?” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.   
“I think that with the Detective out of my life, you were hoping I’d go back to Hell. Well, sorry to disappoint you Maze, but that’s never going to happen.” He paused, taking another swallow of whiskey. “And you can report that to my brother.”  
“What?” Maze breathed, the colour draining from her face.  
Lucifer’s lip curled in grim satisfaction at having his suspicions confirmed. “Well, you are working for him, aren’t you? Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” He chuckled sardonically at her discomfiture. “The Detective may not have betrayed me, Maze, but you did. So you and I— we’re through.”  
He tossed back the last of the Scotch in his glass, getting up from the piano as he saw the Detective making her way down the stairs.   
“Ah, Detective!” he greeted her. “I hope you’ve come to tell me we can reopen.”  
The Detective nodded. “Lux is no longer a crime scene.” She caught sight of Maze’s frightened, angry face and looked at him quizzically. “Is everything okay?”  
“Just a squabble, I’ll explain later.” He guided her to the bar with one hand behind her back, going behind the bar as she settled herself onto one of the barstools. Over her shoulder, he saw Maze stalk off to the back rooms and dismissed her from his thoughts temporarily, concentrating instead on the Detective’s news.   
“The results came back on the methanol we found in Walker’s flask. The impurities matched those in the methanol we found in his apartment. The case is officially closed. He’s going to do a lot of time.”  
Lucifer chuckled in satisfaction, pouring two glasses of Scotch and putting one down in front of the Detective. “Well. So much for our murderous bartender.”  
She nodded in agreement before looking up at him inquiringly. “So what happens now?”  
He sipped at the whiskey in his glass. “Well, that’s up to you, Detective. I guess the question is, can you work with the Devil?”  
As if on cue, her phone buzzed against the surface of the bar. Lucifer rolled his eyes as she picked it up and answered the call.  
“Decker.”  
She listened for a moment. “Okay. What’s the address? Van Nuys? Yeah. Be there soon.” She hung up the phone and hopped down off the barstool. “Got a case.” She started towards the stairs before realising he wasn’t following her. “Are you coming or what?”  
Lucifer broke into a grin. “Right.”


End file.
